As her kayak drifted through the stagnant lake water, she caught the sound of another’s boat cutting the surface. The plunk of an oar pulled her attention to the shadows by the canyon walls. A fleet of kayaks fast approached hers. Their oars rose and fell in perfect time as if their rowers shared one mind. Their finely tuned movements directed the current in their favor. The lead rower cut through the water with powerful swipes with each of his kinsman close behind. She watched silently as they passed her by. When her kayak failed to bob in their rhythmic wake, she knew they were just an illusion. Each member of the fleet vanished in the stark light on the lake horizon. With even her thoughts deserting her, silence descended. She waited minutes, hours, days, for a bird to chirp over head, for a fish to nibble the water’s surface, for just a hint that someone else was out there. The whisper of the kayak’s drift quieted until it too died out.